


front wheel, fuel-injected, and stepping out over the line

by Trojie, uglowian



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Car Racing, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Matchmaking, Street Racing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 18:51:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18104342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/uglowian/pseuds/uglowian
Summary: In which Gerard and Ray fail to get their shit together, with a full supporting cast (of exasperated Frank Iero and longsuffering Andy Hurley.)





	front wheel, fuel-injected, and stepping out over the line

**Author's Note:**

> Not the actual sequel to [shut up and drive](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14935343) but an interstitial piece in that universe? It’s dumb fluff for people who need a smile. 
> 
> In case you don’t want to wade your way through 140k of the backstory though (and who’d blame you?) the deal is this: everyone’s a streetracer, Pete, Patrick and Mikey are an (extremely deeply embarrassing to everyone) item, Joe Trohman is the only person with any sense (the fact that he doesn’t appear in this ficlet is proof), and just before the events chronicled here, Frank Iero got shot non-fatally by Jared Leto’s brother. 
> 
> And now, onwards!

'Jesus Toro, I'm not your grandma. I got shot in the shoulder, not the leg.'

'Yeah, and you could barely walk _before_ you spent a week flat on your back, asshole. Which is why you're still using a cane.'

'And if you don't let me get from the fucking driveway to the door by myself I'm gonna use it to beat your ass, I swear to God.'

'This is why people are always asking me if things are alright at home,' says Ray reproachfully, but he does let go of Frank's elbow. He goes ahead to open the front door so Frank can just walk straight into the house.

Frank butts his head gently against Ray's shoulder as he passes.

‘I love you too, dickbrain,’ Ray says. ‘Now go sit the fuck down before I shoot you myself.’

Frank does as he’s told and then surveys the kingdom of Ray’s living room and finds it remarkably empty. ‘Where is everyone?’

Ray shrugs. ‘Joe’s wherever Joe goes on Saturday nights. I don’t want to know what Pete, Patrick and Mikey are doing except that I’m glad they’re not doing it on my couch -‘

‘- again,’ Frank adds helpfully. 

‘- and Andy is wherever Andy wants to be, doing whatever Andy wants to do, I’m not his fucking mom. I’m not anyone’s fucking mom.’

‘Uh-huh,’ says Frank, stretching out gingerly. ‘And when are they all arriving for brunch tomorrow, Mom?’

‘I told them eleven — hey. Shut the fuck up. It’s a business strategy meeting.’

‘With mimosas.’

‘Feel free to not drink them. In fact feel free not to come, I’ll start getting real bacon again.’

‘You do that and Hurley will stop coming, and then you’ll be sad and your fledgling business partnership will be torn asunder.’

‘I hate you.’

‘You love me. I complete you. And you missed someone off your roll call.’

Here’s the thing: Frank knew Ray would blush before he even said it. But he said it, because Ray deserves to squirm, because it’s been two whole fucking weeks since everything went down and Ray was _supposed_ to have tapped that by now.

Or. Well. Asked Gerard out on a coffee date, at _least_. 

‘I’m not his mom either,’ Ray protests. ‘I don’t just check up on everyone’s whereabouts every minute of every day, Frank.’

It occurs to Frank that it’s _possible_ Ray doesn’t know he was supposed to act on his planet-sized crush. It’s possible he doesn’t know he _has_ a planet-sized crush, even.

Something must be done. No one, in Frank Iero's opinion, deserves a fairytale ending more than Ray motherfucking Toro.

***

It’s three pm on the Wednesday after Frank gets home from the hospital when Andy checks his phone for the first time in a few hours (greasy hands and touchscreens really don’t mix) and realises he’s got somewhere in the region of seventy two text messages, all from said Frank.

He scrolls to the top of the conversation with some trepidation.

**Frank Iero**  
**iPhone message**  
Today at 10.04am 

_you SUPPOSED to fIX THIS hurlY_

_sry, typing one handed_

_not like that im eating a sandwich_

_u were sposed to get them together_  
_and theyre not together an its killing m_

_yo could cut the sexual tension with a knife_

_i wbt out to the garage and they were_  
_blushing at each other over the hood of_  
_an el camino and I want it to STOP_

(Andy keeps scrolling because most of them appear to be in the same vein and he's a busy man.)

****

3.12pm

_I TRUSTED YOU_

_COME OVER HERE AND ANSSWER_  
_FOR YOR TREASON HURLEY_

That’s the most recent one. Andy hovers his thumb over replying and then decides fuck it, and hits ‘call’. 

‘Hurley! Or should I say Judas!’

‘Iero, what in the name of god are you doing?’

‘I’m _resting_ , as _instructed_.’

‘Bullshit you are, you just sent me a thousand text messages. Why are you yelling at _me_ about your housemate’s love life?’

‘Ugh,’ Frank says disgustedly. ‘He doesn't have a love life, that's the problem. Can you come over? The, fucking … plangent Heathcliffean sighs coming from the garage are fucking killing me. I’ve been trying to finesse Toro into applying the fine art of Talking To Boys for days and then when I finally made Gee come over, he clammed up!’

Andy clamps his phone between his ear and his shoulder and fishes around for his truck keys. At the very least, Gerard might need a tactical extraction. ‘I’m on my way. Don’t spook him too much.’

‘I’m not _spooking_ him, I’m trying to _encourage_ him.’

‘Last time I saw you trying to encourage him you were pushing him towards a group of women. With both hands.' Andy stops and thinks. 'Wait. Is Toro even into guys?'

‘Dude what the fuck? He’s super fucking bi.’ Frank sounds genuinely scandalised. ‘Wait, did you not know about him and Lazarra’s torrid romance?’

‘Their what now?’ Andy slings himself into the front seat of his truck and throws the phone onto the dash on speaker.

‘Oh my god, dude, it was damaging. It was sickening. Toro gave him flowers. On the reg. And then they had this fucking disgustingly mature breakup.’ Frank sighs gustily down the phone in apparently tortured reminiscence. ‘No one threw _anything_. Sometimes they still go out for drinks. But anyway, no, my boy is equal opportunities. Which means he never sacks up and asks _anyone_ out.’

‘... how much percocet did you take, Frank?’

Frank cracks up. ‘Dude. So fucking much. But only what Dr Karen wrote on the bottle, I promise. I love her. But that’s not the point. The point. The _point_ is -‘

‘Oh, was there a point?’

‘Yeah, the fucking point is that all this sexual tension is giving me a migraine.’

Andy rolls his eyes. ‘I’ll come over, drama queen. But please stop taking the goddamn drugs.’

'Too late. And oh, bring some fruit punch or whatever the fuck it is you drink. I’m on season two but I’ll pause it, because it’s you.’

Andy passes his free hand briefly over his face and refrains from bothering to ask what Frank is watching season two _of_. ‘Please tell me you aren’t drinking, Frank.’

‘Ughhh Dr Karen said I couldn’t.’

‘Thank fuck for Dr Karen then I guess.’

‘Just bring me something caffeinated and sugary to drink, Hurley, please, Toro keeps making me iced tea and I might actually die.’

‘You’re a five year old.’

‘Please Hurley, I’m begging you. We’re vegans, not Puritans. Who do I have to blow to get some Funyuns and Coke?’

Andy sighs and hits his turn signal.

***

Frank hears the knock at the door but he’s under strict orders not to get up. ‘TORO! DOOR!’ is his contribution, therefore.

His head is so damn fuzzy, his own voice is too loud. He holds it with his hands to try and still the ringing.

He has to laugh though when Ray opens the door and immediately says ‘Andy! Hi! I didn’t realise you were coming over. I made iced tea, would you like some?’

Ten seconds later Ray's gone back to the Gerard-containing garage and Andy dumps a package of Oreos and a can of Pepsi on Frank’s lap. 

‘Oh thank fuck,’ says Frank prayerfully, cracking the can open. 

‘And I won’t even ask you to blow me.’

‘I’m good for it! I pay my debts, Hurley.’

‘Yeah, sure. Maybe when you aren’t high.’

‘Whatever.’

Andy squints at the TV. ‘What are we watching?’

‘Golden Girls. But I’ll keep it paused til after you’ve talked to Toro, it’s cool.’

Andy steals a couple of Oreos out of the package being guarded jealously on Frank’s lap, and looks around like he expects Toro to be listening at the door. ‘Frank, have you considered they might not want to date? You shouldn't be so fucking heteronormative.’

Frank stares at him. ‘They’re both dudes, Hurley.’

‘Whatever. Not everyone wants to couple up. I feel like you, of all people, should understand and respect that.’

Frank does not appreciate that smirk, thank you very much. 

‘Have you _met_ Toro? He’s been waiting his entire fucking life to be someone’s house-husband.’

Andy carefully dissects an Oreo into two pieces and methodically removes the mysterious white filling in one go, eats that, and then crunches his way through the cookie parts. Then he says. ‘Well. If Toro won’t budge, maybe we should talk to Gerard.’

Frank grins at him and shoves the Oreos off his lap. ‘You’re a genius. Where’s my cane?’ Ugh, it’s over on the other side of the room. Toro keeps moving it, which is unfair given Frank only used it to poke him one time.

Andy put his hand on Frank’s shoulder. ‘How about you stay put, huh? You’re off your face on painkillers.’

‘I’m very high-functioning thank you very much.’

‘Which is why Toro and Gerard are hiding in the garage. No. How about you watch your show til you pass out like nature intended and I’ll talk to Gerard later, so he’s not scarred for life.’

***

When Frank finally passes out, because having a gunshot wound is tiring, Andy waits a little while and then extricates himself to leave. He sticks his head around the connecting door to the garage.

Ray and Gerard both look up suddenly and a little guiltily. Given they're on opposite sides of a Dodge Charger, Andy's not sure why. Not even Pete and Mikey could get up to hanky-panky at that distance.

‘Gerard, I'm heading out. You want a ride back to the loft, or are you staying?’

Gerard makes this face like he really wants to stay. In the low ambient light thrown outside of the spotlight that’s on the engine bay, he looks, as usual, unhygienically grimy but also disconcertingly like a male model. Ray is openly staring, but then he pretty much always is. Andy waits - and then Gerard sighs and says, ‘yeah, thanks, just lemme grab my shit.’

‘It’s kind of you to come hang out with Frank while he’s laid up,’ says Ray, reappearing while Andy’s shrugging his jacket back on and waiting for Gerard. 'You're a good friend.'

The list of things that Ray is sweetly oblivious to is the length of Andy’s arm.

***

In the truck, at a stoplight, Andy looks over at Gerard. The hair is straggling softly around his face, needing a touch up on the colour. ‘How’s Ray? I didn’t see that much of you two this afternoon.'

As completely expected: Gerard goes a little pink. It’s like living in a fucking romcom, Christ. This guy cannot possibly be this much of a virginal Austen heroine, surely. 

‘He’s fine,’ says Gerard softly. ‘He’s good. We just hung out while he worked, that’s all.’ He hesitates. ‘How do you think Frank’s doing? I asked, but he didn’t tell me much, and then he had to take his meds.’’ He makes this face. Andy knows for sure, when Gerard was the one with the gunshot wound, he was flushing his meds rather than taking them. It speaks to his character, that he did that in the face of the pain he was feeling. 

'Frank's doing okay. I'm not sure he should mix Golden Girls and that much percocet, but what can you do.’

Gerard looks worried. And it hits Andy, all of a sudden, that Gerard hasn’t been clean that long, really. A year, maybe? Has it only been a year since he and Mikey rolled onto the scene? No wonder he finds reasons to be elsewhere when Frank takes his meds.

But also, in all that time, Andy’s never seen Gerard go off with anyone. It’s possible that Ray is the first person Gerard’s been into since he got sober. 

Well. Fuck. 

He’s going to have to tell Frank to pump the brakes.

***

**Frank Iero**  
**iPhone message**  
Today at 8.23pm

_o fck good point_

_dn’t worry tho toros a gentleman_  
_of the highest order_

Andy can’t help snorting at his phone. He taps out

_mayb that’s the problem? g mb_  
_thinks this is one sided_

_fcuk_

_i mean fuck_

_ur right._

_but hurley i dont wannna leave them_  
_to pine that seems cruel_

Pete looks up curiously from the other side of the couch when Andy laughs.

_dnt worry romance isn’t dead,_  
_we just have to be subtle_

_dude i dnot remember exactly bc i was_  
 _high as a kite but I’m p sure i told toro to_  
 _take g to bed for a week and not let him up_  
 _til dehydration set in. Might have missed the_  
 _boat on subtle_

_otoh i don’t think he took me seriously…_

_maybe bc he knew you were off your face_  
_and not a reliable source of advice_

_excuse YOU i am his ROCK of_  
 _SANITY and good advice_

_sure you are. You keep doing that_  
_and I’ll think about how to talk to_  
_ray in a not terrifying way_

_do u even know what romance is hurley?_

_i don’t have to be the quarterback_  
_to know about football, iero_

***

‘If I promise to sit in this dorky fucking grandma chair, can I at least come to the race?’

Ray looks at Frank tiredly. ‘Your mother must have the patience of a motherfucking saint, I swear to god. Sure, Frankie. You’re an adult. If you want to come to the race, come to the race. But if you bust your stitches -‘

‘Don’t even say it,’ Frank advises him, bundling the folding chair under the arm that isn’t holding his cane. ‘We both know you would definitely take me to the emergency room.’

He smiles up at Ray as he makes his way to the garage. ‘Seriously though. Thank you for looking after me. And like. Worrying, and shit. You don’t have to. And I appreciate it.’

‘Can you show your appreciation by taking it easy tonight?’

‘I solemnly swear I have plans to hang out and annoy Hurley for black bean burgers all night,’ Frank says innocently.

‘Thank God.’

‘Who’s on the grid tonight?’ Frank asks. ‘Are you on a heavy babysitting rotation?’

As if he doesn’t know. But Ray perks up a little. He likes a busy night. ‘Pete, Patrick and Saporta,’ he says. ‘Saporta hasn’t asked me to actually check his rig over tonight but I did change out his fanbelt last week and I just want to be sure it’s still all running smoothly. And Gee’s taking the Corvette.’

Ah, young love. 

‘Oh, is he?’ Frank says innocently. 

Ray makes a face. ‘Shut up Frankie. There’s nothing going on.’

Frank has a retort about how he knows, and that’s the problem, buttttt. Tactics. He has to think about the tactics. He can’t just charge in like a bull in a china shop and blame the horse tranquillisers Dr Karen has him on. For a start, there's a time limit on the excuse. ‘Okay, okay, big guy. I believe you. C’mon, let’s get going.’

Later on, Ray’s chest-deep in Pete’s MX5, mostly swearing, and he’s actually got his hair pulled back in a hair-tie, which means business. 

‘I think,’ says Andy, re-oiling his hot plate after having grilled a pile of patties on it and scraped it down. The task gives him the opportunity to crouch easily next to Frank’s chair, and keep his voice down. ‘That Ray’s worried he’s gonna _take advantage_ or something.’

Frank sighs. ‘God knows how, but yeah, that sounds like my boy. But what about Gerard? He could make a fucking move, oh my god. Ray’s like. Bleeding love out his eyeballs, for fuck’s sake.’

It’s Andy’s turn to sigh. ‘And I quote, “maybe he just feels sorry for me”.’

‘Fuck this,’ says Frank wearily. ‘It’s like they want to pine.’

‘It’s gonna be fine. We have to just … be a bit gentle with Gerard, I think, but Ray we might have to push.’

No-one’s around to see and they’re already leaning close enough that Frank feels little compunction about planting a kiss on Andy’s beardy cheek. ‘Look at you facilitating True Love, you grumpy old dog.’

‘It would be cruel and unusual punishment to keep them from each other,’ says Andy gruffly. ‘Even if that kind of lifestyle isn’t my thing.’

Before Frank can say anything else, he straightens up and heaves his hot plate into the back of his truck. ‘They’re about to start warming up,’ he says. ‘Can you see from here? I’m gonna go see Toro.’

‘To push?’

‘Maybe. You’re okay, right?’

‘Yes, Hurley, I’m fine.’ Frank even has a covered plate with extra food on it, that’s how fine he is. 

He watches Andy stomp his way across the tarmac with some fondness and also the warm glow he likes to imagine Alexander the Great felt as he watched his forces sweep the plains of … somewhere. Unless he was the one who crossed the Alps. Whatever.

***

It’s so easy to get to Ray at a race, once the cars have started putting in their warmup laps, before the race proper, before the tension starts. He’s always hanging out on the sidelines, watching Gerard grandstand in that beautiful car. Andy leans up next to him against the panelling of his truck and waves away the offer of a soda. They survey the commotion for a while in companionable silence, and then Andy says quietly, ‘You’ve got it bad for him, don’t you.’

Ray goes scarlet immediately, and doesn't pretend he doesn't know who Andy's talking about.

‘There’s nothing wrong with it,’ says Andy. ‘Being into Gerard, I mean. But are you ever going to actually tell him?’

‘I. Uh. I don’t —‘ Ray bites his lip. ‘’He has a lot he’s working through. I don’t want to. Y’know.’

‘No, actually. I don’t know.’

Whatever the fuck it is Ray’s squirming about, Andy’s going to make him _say_ it. 

‘... mess things up for him?’

‘I’m not sure a coffee date will mess him up,’ Andy points out. ‘I know what you mean, but I’m pretty sure, if you bring it up gently, it’ll be okay. You don’t have to get down on bended knee, Toro. It’s just coffee. He likes coffee.’

He also likes _you_ , Andy mentally adds.

Ray looks so unsure. ‘I haven’t dated anyone in ages,’ he says, twisting the hem of his shirt in one hand. ‘I really like him, y’know? Fuck. I sound pathetic. Do _not_ tell Frank we had this conversation, for the love of God.’

He’s so fucking sweet, and very much the opposite of pathetic. Andy won’t rat on him to Iero, even though Frank very definitely already knows his housemate is Capable of Feelings, and is in favour of the whole concept. ‘Seriously, Toro. Just ask him out. The worst he can say is no.’

Ray’s mouth twists. ‘That’s pretty bad, Andy. I don’t want to fuck up and make him uncomfortable and … I mean, fuck. I don’t want him to think he has to go back to living in his goddamn car. It’s better if I just don’t say anything, okay?’

There’s a commotion over the other side of the track and Ray basically runs like someone lit his tail on fire to go see what it is. 

Andy texts Frank mostly out of despair and frustration.

**Frank Iero**  
**iPhone message**  
Today at 9.13pm 

_abort abort_

_what happeend????_

_your fuckin platonic life parteris_  
_Honourable and blind and will die of blue balls_

_that’s what Ive been TELLLING YOU_

_getting motherfucking pandas to fuck for_  
_thee good of the species was easier than this_  
_i swear to fucking god dude_

_I’m gonna talk to g as my final_  
_Hail Mary play but after that the future of their_  
_species is no longer my problem_

_i just want them to be happy_

_jesus give me strength_

The thing is, Andy wants them to be happy too.

***

Ray disappears after the race, muttering something about not being in a partying mood, and Gerard watches him leave with a puppydog face from beside the Corvette he just won in.

‘Oh,’ he says softly. ‘I thought. Oh well.’ It’s mostly to himself, and he turns around, clearly looking for Mikey. Andy thinks a prayer out into the ether, and catches him by the elbow. 

‘Hey Gerard -‘

Gerard startles, and then something uncomfortable crosses his face. 'Hey Andy.’

‘You okay? Is the car okay?’

‘Yeah, I’m fine, the car’s fine. But, hey, since you’re here. I need your help,' he says, already waving his hands around a little desperately. 'The others listen to you. You guys have got to stop fucking harassing Ray, okay? It’s making everything weird. If he doesn’t want to date me he doesn’t have to, for fuck’s sake. I just want to be his friend.’

‘Bullshit,’ says Andy, startled into truth.

Gerard colours violently. ‘Fine. How about this: I want to be his friend more than I want to make some stupid move and have him walk away. Apologies for not wanting to find out conclusively that I never had a shot.’

Andy resists the urge to bury his head in his hands. ‘What makes you think you don’t have a shot, Gerard?’ he asks patiently. 

Gerard shrugs helplessly and then sort of gestures up and down himself, but what he says is, ‘he’s too fucking good for me and you know it.’

It’s so fucking melodramatic Andy doesn’t even know where to start, but he’s going to have to find somewhere, because he can see Gerard taking a breath, ready to launch into the specifics of why, and he needs to be cut off, for his own good. 

‘How do you think Ray feels?’ he asks Gerard quietly, cutting in before the impassioned bottle-redhead in front of him can avalanche out his unnecessarily self-deprecating argument in favour of his continued celibacy and self-sacrifice.

‘I - what?’

‘Well, I mean, you have to be able to tell he’s into you.’

Gerard splutters. ‘Well, I mean. I guess, but. Look, Andy, people … look, or whatever, it doesn’t mean they’re actually interested. Or that it’s a good idea. Hell, Saporta’s into me, that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.’

Andy has to concede this point. ‘If you really think it’s a bad idea, then I’ll tell the wolves to get off your trail, but for what it’s worth, I think you’re being ridiculous. Take him out to dinner and then … fuck it, you’re adults. Work it out.’

‘I can’t,’ Gerard protests. 

'Why the fuck not?’

'I - What if I hurt him?'

It’s very touching that they care this much about each other but _Jesus assfucking Christ_. 

‘I think you’re hurting him right now, Gerard,’ says Andy, dredging deep within himself for an argument that might work with Gerard. ‘Because he thinks he isn’t the kind of guy you could ever be interested in. I get that you think you aren’t good enough for him, and I see why, because he’s a really fucking good guy, but trust me, he thinks exactly the same thing about you, only he can’t see how much you Iike him. He’s not used to people staring at him the way you are, Gee. But you know. You can see how he looks at you. It’s on you, buddy, and you’re letting him down.’

Andy feels dirty for pulling a Harlequin Romance on the situation but a man only has so much patience, and they’re getting exactly nowhere passing the sharing stick around the circle. If this doesn’t work, he’ll lock them in the fucking pantry together. If Iero was less of a touchy-feely chickenshit this could have been fixed months ago. 

He stares at Gerard, and almost falls over in startlement when Gerard lifts that determined chin after a moment and says, ‘You’re right. I’m … I’m going to go talk to Ray. I need you to distract my brother.’

Andy grimaces. He saw Mikey and Pete on the stretch of tarmac that’s tonight’s post-race dancefloor earlier. ‘I don’t think I need to. Also don’t bother trying to tell him goodbye when you leave unless you want to go blind.’

Just because they’re doing it in public doesn’t mean it’s fit for public consumption.

Gerard squints, cocks his head in the direction of the loud music, and then makes a brief distressed face. He squares his shoulders and gets back into the Corvette like a man on a mission.

Thank God. Andy is going to go back to the loft and make non-alcoholic victory mimosas.

***

If there was a soundtrack to this moment it would be like Gone with the fucking Wind, or at least, that’s what Gerard’s imagining in his head. When he pulls up at Ray’s place the lights are on in the garage, so that’s where he heads. After parking the car and putting his head between his knees for a moment and trying to remember how to breathe, that is.

It’s all in vain anyway because his mouth goes a little dry and his heart beats faster, just a little bit, because Ray’s elbow deep in an engine bay and when he turns and spots Gerard he smiles that big, thousand watt, searchlight smile, and all Gerard’s plans for how this is going to involve complete sentences go right out the window. 

Because Jesus. How is this man not beating the admirers off with a stick? He’s _so_ fucking hot. 

This has been a problem for Gerard for _months_ and he’s been mostly dealing with it by not thinking about it and instead focusing on things like how Ray’s a great person and a frankly genius mechanic … but now he actually is supposed to be saying something smooth and awesome and romantic and all that comes out is, 'wanna get a pizza and watch Netflix?'

At least it's English and semicoherent, but that's not a date, that's a normal Friday night. 

So, in a panic he adds 'and make out?'

Which.

Wow Gerard. He might have to go throw himself in a river now because Ray's midway through saying 'sure that sounds great, just let me finish up here' when Gerard's addendum happens.

He stops. 

Gerard waits for the earth to open up and swallow him through the poured concrete foundation of Ray’s garage. 

'I - you -'

'What?'

'What?'

'Uh.'

Christ almighty, Gerard almost wishes he still drank so he could have the excuse of being drunk. He can feel the heat of the blush crawling up his face. 

Ray wipes his hands on a rag and straightens up. 'Did you just ... ask me to make out with you?'

Gerard also really really doesn't know what to say. Maybe he can claim he had a stroke. Or that Ray’s hearing is going. 

Ray steps closer. 'Because um.'

Gerard stares at him.

'We're halfway through that episode of Criminal Minds,' Ray says. 'And I think the pizza place starts our order when they see us on caller ID. We eat too much pizza, man.'

He's still coming closer, jerky and uncertain, but not stopping. 'And uh. The other thing.'

This is it. This is where he says no and it turns out Gerard and Andy and Frank were all wrong all along

Ray licks his lips. Gerard can't help tracking the motion, licking his own. Ray's eyes drop to Gerard's mouth. 'God help me,' he says really quietly. 'The other thing. I mean, If you want to. I wouldn't - like. Object. If you're serious.'

There's a tiny scrape of a beat.

'Please be serious,' Ray almost whispers.

Gerard's throat comes unstuck. 'I am,' he says hoarsely.

Ray looks at him and god, his eyes are so dark and pretty in the low light of the garage (half the bulbs are blown down here and no-one can ever be assed to change them)

'In fact, fuck the pizza,' says Gerard Way, King of Smooth, pushing Ray onto the hood of the nearest car.

***

**Frank Iero**  
**iPhone message**  
Today at 11.48pm 

_WHAT HAPPENED WHOSE SOUL DID YOU SELL_

_also i need to seek political asylm_

_I haven’t been sexiled_  
_since i was in college omfg_

_come over then._  
_You owe m for that Pepsi anyway_

_I told you. An Iero always pays_  
_his debts. See u in 10_


End file.
